


Holding On

by 3rdgenderfromthesun



Series: Sniff Sniff Fall in Love [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Misunderstandings, Tactile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 02:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdgenderfromthesun/pseuds/3rdgenderfromthesun
Summary: Three months after their initial claiming Stiles and Derek are no closer to bonding. If anything they've taken a few steps back. With Stiles' heat looming in the distance the insecurities are getting more intense.





	1. Chapter 1

I wrote this a while ago but was never satisfied with it. It's cute, I guess.

 

Derek was so quiet that sometimes Stiles forgot that he was even there. He would sit himself down and read after work and Stiles would play his games, music, or chat on the phone at top volume and Derek wouldn't say a word. Sometimes Stiles would look over, notice him, and in doing so see that he looked annoyed or even angry. When that happened Stiles would turn down the volume on whatever he was doing. Sometimes he tried to start a conversation with Derek, but he wasn't the most communicative guy on the planet. He'd grunt a reply, or he'd sass Stiles, maybe they'd talk enough to have a good conversation at first but then they would run out of steam and an awkward silence would fall.

 

Worse, Derek hadn't touched him since he'd claimed him. Well... that wasn't true. They shared a bed, so Stiles slept wrapped in the man's arms every night. Derek would nuzzle him tenderly each night, his stubble brushing against the back of Stiles' neck. Sometimes it would burn his neck, leaving it sensitive the next morning. Stiles would spend his classes rubbing at it, remembering his mate's touch. People would see it and give him knowing smiles and Stiles would blush but it was all a ruse in a way. Derek, for whatever reason, didn't want Stiles but also wasn't leaving him. They were in a strange limbo in which Stiles felt inadequate and hurt but had no reason to complain because Derek treated him _well_ despite Stiles being well known amongst friends and family for being an annoying little shit. His own best friend had laughingly commented more than once that it was good that Derek was so quiet because it countered ALL OF STILES. Stiles had laughed, but after Scott had left he'd gone into the bathroom and cried.

 

Derek often smelled like his profession; motor oil, gasoline, and industrial paint. Stiles would never have said that smell appealed to him before he'd been mated to Derek, but since they were bonded the scent made him think of safety and tenderness. Derek was an artist. His work on cars in their town was more for functionality than aesthetic, but he had a few he worked on for himself or that came from clients across the US looking to spruce up their playboy cars. They were gorgeous with their bright colors and the constant theme of intense power contained in a small and shapely form. (The very opposite of Stiles.) Sometimes he would work on them late into the night and Stiles would have to go downstairs to call him up to bed. He'd find Derek in his father's garage, silent as always, working hard on his 'baby'. Stiles had no idea that it was possible to be jealous of a car, but the way Derek slid his hands over his Camaro made it clear that he cherished her in ways that Stiles was powerless to obtain. Maybe Derek was asexual and his claim of Stiles- that partial penetration that had left them both panting and embarrassed- was just a means to an end. Clearly Derek's true love was cold steal, not clumsy flesh.

 

Stiles' heat was yearly if not set off by an alpha, and since the claiming had been sexual his body hadn't found a need to feel triggered. If he caught scent of Derek's pre-come he'd go on heat immediately, but while Derek frequently had an erection around him, he was always clothed when it happened and kept it well to himself. Since Stiles was human he couldn't get a whiff through clothing so he had yet to become mindless with lust and lure his mate to him with his own scent. Not that he didn't crave him. He did. Endlessly. The problem was that Derek had claimed him in the least invasive way possible, barely even penetrating Stiles' body, and hadn't so much as kissed him since. Stiles had been raised the same as most others, with the idea that omega's were sweet, gentle, demure, and chaste. It was bullshit, of course. Most omegas fooled around with each other until an alpha claimed them. Stiles was far from any of the other bullshit stereotypes, but sadly Stiles had been too annoying to interest any omegas within the facility he'd been kept at and now he was painfully lacking in the knowledge of flirting department. Or confidence. Or sensuality. Or anything remotely alluring. Stiles' dad was constantly glaring at Derek, and Derek had apparently taken his father's threats to heart and wasn't making the first move on Stiles. Stiles was still practically virginal, and his yearly heat was approaching fast, one in which he would be _knotted_ by an _alpha_ who he barely knew.

 

Stiles was scared.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles' class on Wednesday ran late, so he was away until nearly 10 o'clock at night. When he came home he wanted food, a shower, and sleep in that order. Normally. At the moment he had an itch beneath his skin that wasn't going away. It was a buzzing arousal that he knew from experience was going to continue to grow and grow until it blossomed into _heat_.

 

He had two more classes to go before heat week and he'd already informed his teacher that he might not make it through. Luckily he had a valid excuse, and would be allowed to turn in his assignments either early or late and make up his tests. Stiles' heat hit early every year, starting off the breeding season a full two weeks before the rest of the world did, yet another reason he wasn't able to secure omega partners while he'd been in the sanctuary. There were probably other omegas who also started early, but Stiles didn't know them, and they were likely few and far between. So Stiles suffered alone, and very well might continue to do so if he couldn't lure in his own fucking husband.

 

Masturbation was out. Stiles was too melancholy and his body wouldn't get any relief. Instead, he went for food. Meal obtained, Stiles headed upstairs to shower, dried quickly, and wrapped himself in his favorite fluffy white robe. It made him feel comforted. When heat started to close in on him Stiles would become very tactile and long for various types to textures on his skin. That would graduate to needing to masturbate a great deal and then evolve into a need to _be_ touched. By another. By his mate. Who was currently _not_ in their bed.

 

Stiles sighed at the sight of the empty bed and headed downstairs. Derek would be in his father's garage, working on his latest pet project. The Camaro was finished and he had started restoring a Chevy Caprice. It was an 89. Stiles only knew that because on the rare occasions that his mate _spoke_ it was about the car. It belonged to an eclectic man from New Hampshire who had seen Derek's work on the internet- courtesy of Stiles' networking ability- and hired him to jazz up his favorite classic car. The guy had shipped it to them with the instructions to make it 'artistic'. Derek had drawn up a few idea boards and gotten to work with the same enthusiasm he had given the Camaro.

 

Stiles stepped into the chilly garage and frowned at the bright light overhead. Derek wasn't even working on the car. He was just sitting on a stool and staring at it while sipping at a soda straight out of the bottle. Stiles normally would called him from the doorway; a quick 'Hey, sourwolf, time to leave your den!' would get him to sigh, roll his eyes, and head upstairs to bed. This time Stiles took one look at the surface of the car's hood and his tactile urges started to draw him to it.

 

“That paint dry?” Stiles asked.

 

Derek snorted and rolled his eyes, “Very funny.”

 

“Huh? Oh! Ha! Watching paint dry,” Stiles shook his head, “Pun not intended. Seriously. Is that paint _dry_.”

 

“I don't paint here,” Derek stated.

 

“Waaas that a yes?”

 

“Yes, Stiles, the paint is dry.”

 

“Thank fuck,” Stiles hurried forward, hissing at the chill on his bare feet, and climbed up on the hood of the car.

 

“The hell are you-” Derek started, but then stopped when Stiles shrugged the robe mostly off and laid down on his belly on the car.

 

Stiles let out a sigh of relief as he ran his hands across the car's hood and nuzzled his cheek on the slick surface. The hood was warm from the engine running recently, so it even felt good on his bits. Derek stood up and walked around him, stunned at his behavior. His eyes were wide and glowing alpha red as he surveyed Stiles lazily rutting against the car while stroking it like a lover.

 

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, voice haggard.

 

Embarrassment hit, and Stiles rolled over, pulling his robe up to his neck and giving Derek a wide-eyed stare. It was falling off his shoulders and he felt like an idiot. He wanted the car on his skin, not the robe, and he was having trouble focusing even on his humiliation as he repeatedly glanced aside at the car's hood.

 

“I-I-I can't help it,” Stiles stammered, running his hand along the edge where the break in the hood occurred for the windshield wipers, “It's a texture thing.”

 

“A texture thing?”

 

“From... you know... _my time_.”

 

Derek's nostril's flared and Stiles' eyes widened in surprise. Derek looked ready to tear the robe off of his body and take him then and there. Desire shot through Stiles' body and he shivered in longing. Without thinking he put his hand out, reaching for his mate and letting the robe fall. Derek's hand moved out, stroking over Stiles' fingers and making him shudder. Derek's fingers were rough with calluses and the strong soap he used to remove grease and oil from his hands. Stiles pulled it to his face and ran it down his cheek and neck. New texture achieved! Now if he could just get Derek to fuck him on top of the car hood...

 

“God,” Derek breathed, “You don't smell as if you're on heat, but you look it.”

 

“A few days,” Stiles replied softly, eyes opening to meet Derek's, “Have you ever... with an omega on heat?”

 

“No,” Derek shook his head, “But I went on rut when I smelled your packet. It was all consuming.”

 

Stiles winced. His packet had contained the heat scent of two other omegas. So often since their initial mating Stiles had wondered if the combined smells had caused Derek to take home and claim the wrong omega. Surely he was meant for a sensual young man like Isaac who would sit in companionable silence with him. Or a blonde bombshell like Erica who was as powerful and sensual as his cars. Instead he had a nerd by the name of Stiles who was loud and boisterous. Someone he never touched. Someone who couldn't dwell in silence with him the way he clearly preferred. Someone he didn't _want._

 

“What if... what if it doesn't work?” Stiles whispered, pushing Derek's hand away sadly and frowning at Derek as he faced his fears head on, “What if I go on heat and you don't respond?”

 

Derek's nostril's flared, “Don't mistake my respect for your inexperience for a lack of virility.”

 

“Your... what?”

 

“If you _still_ aren't ready to mate with me we should take you to Eichen to wait out your heat. I know you said you've never experimented with an omega. Now that we're mated I would appreciate if you refrained from touching anyone else, but I won't force myself on you.”

 

“Wait, wait, what _respect?”_ Stiles asked sharply.

 

“I've been keeping my hands off of you for _three months_ ,” Derek growled, launching into an explanation, “Waiting for your heat or you to be ready, whichever comes first. If you're still scared than you can go to a heat house like Eichen so you are safe from others and from... from me. I respect you, but I can't promise to keep my hands off when you-”

 

“I'm not scared!” Stiles snapped angrily, “And I'm not questioning your virility! I can _feel_ your virility! Every night! Inside your pants where it does no one any damn good!”

 

Derek frowned, his ridiculous eyebrows furrowing sharply, “You haven't given me a single clue that you want me to do more than hold you.”

 

“I don't know how to give you a clue! I don't know what clues look like!” Stiles flailed angrily, his robe sliding down further to expose his still erect omega length.

 

Derek's eyes shot down to that visible hard flesh and Stiles' heart quickened again. Hope and longing warring with fear and self-loathing. Derek looked ready to take him there on the hood of the car, his nostrils flaring and his breath suddenly a harsh pant. Insetad, when Derek spoke it was in dismissal.

 

“Stiles,” Derek growled, “Go to your room.”

 

“I'm not a fucking child, don't talk to me like one!” Stiles shouted angrily.

 

Derek lunged and Stiles screamed at the sight of an enraged alpha, years of being taught to fear rape and abuse coming to the surface. Derek recoiled before his hands even touched the pebbled flesh on Stiles' upper arms. He looked horrified at himself and grimaced in pain as he dug his claws into the palms of his hands until blood dripped onto the concrete floor. Stiles whined pitifully and reached for him again, however at that moment the garage door flew open.

 

Stiles' father burst in to see Stiles sitting on the hood of the car like a porn scene and Derek, pants tented with arousal, looking as if he were absolutely guilty of all seven deadly sins. Stiles stared at his dad in horror and the fabric of his robe was suddenly _very_ welcome compared to the look of rage on his dad's face. Stiles pulled it up and found the sleeves this time... after a _lot_ of fumbling.

 

“I've tolerated you taking over my garage,” His dad started angrily, speaking to Derek even as his eyes cast around the room, “I've not made a fuss when you cook a dozen steaks in my kitchen that _Stiles won't let me eat_ because _werewolves_ get steak but humans don't!”

 

“Humans with cholesterol-” Stiles started.

 

“No! Enough!” His dad snapped, addressing Stiles as well this time, “You keep sex in your god damn room! OUT, Stiles! Now!”

 

“What sex,” Stiles grumbled, hopping down and giving the hood of the car a sad look, “He won't even _touch_ me.”

 

“You look terrified, Stiles,” His dad scoffed, “If he _had_ been touching you I'd have shot him.”

 

“I'm not terrified!” Stiles argued, but even he could feel the uptick in his heart at the lie. He was. He was _scared_. No wonder Derek didn't want to touch him, “I'm going back to Eichen.”

 

“You're what?” His dad asked, glancing back and forth between Stiles and Derek.

 

Stiles pushed past his dad and into the warmth of the house, sighing in relief. It was cold as fuck in that garage! In more ways than one.

 

“Stiles, what are you talking about?” Noah asked, following him into the house and shutting the door behind himself.

 

Derek hadn't followed.

 

Typical.

 

“Just what I said. I'm going back to Eichen for my heat. I might... I might stay there.”

 

“What do... why? What's he done?” Noah's voice dropped to such a soft level that only Stiles would recognize it as the threat it was. Anyone else who had heard it that way was undoubtedly on death row... or dead.

 

“Nothing, dad!” Stiles opened the fridge, glared into it accusingly and then shut it again, “He hasn't done anything! We don't touch each other! He picked the wrong omega! This whole thing is a mistake and I'm going to get chemically unclaimed, okay?! You get your garage back _and_ get to eat steaks while I'm locked the fuck up again!”

 

“Stiles,” His dad looked deeply distressed, “Are you sure?”

 

“Yes!” Stiles gestured towards the garage, “We don't talk! We don't fuck! He doesn't want me!”

 

“He sure as hell _looked_ like he did,” Noah replied pointedly, jerking a thumb in the same direction.

 

“He doesn't act like it!” Stiles argued.

 

“If you aren't _talking_ how do you _know?”_

 

“How do I know how he acts if I don't talk to him?” Stiles deadpanned, “Gee, dad, maybe because actions speak louder than words?”

 

“That's not what that saying means,” Noah sighed, “You have to _talk_ to him to understand what his actions mean.”

 

“ _He_ ,” Stiles flailed, “Needs to talk to _me!”_

 

“He's not good with his words, son,” Noah smiled softly, “Even I can see that, and I think you know it, too.”

 

“So what am I supposed to do?!” Stiles flailed again, smacking his hand on the door of the fridge as he did so, “OW!”

 

A loud crash sounded from the garage and then the door flew open. Derek was standing there, nostrils flaring as he scented the room. He scowled over at Stiles, gave him a once over, and then returned to the garage once more, shutting the door behind him. Stiles gestured at him in exasperation and his dad chuckled lightly.

 

“He just ran here to see if you were okay, son. You're looking for hurt where there isn't any. _Talk_ to the boy. Remember he's new to this, too. Probably nervous. Do it with your clothes _on_.”

 

Noah left to get ready for work as he did most nights and Stiles sighed in frustration. His dad was pulling a split shift. He'd be gone until noon the next day, which was probably _not_ enough time for Stiles to get Derek to open up to him considering it had been three months of _nothing_.

 

Stiles sighed and rubbed along his arms, trying to settle for the feel of the fabric. The fact was, it wasn't _cloth_ he was craving. The texture urges were meant to draw him to touch his _mate_. So his body apparently wanted car hoods and callouses, and if that didn't make a great country song Stiles didn't know what did. Stiles whined miserably and sat down at the kitchen table. Derek's chest probably had some amazing texture going on. All the textile. Hair for _days_. Stiles let his head thunk down on the table and whimpered miserably. He hadn't realized it had risen to a keen until Derek's hand touched his shoulder.

 

Stiles jumped, “What the f-”

 

“You were calling for me,” Derek stepped back, expression tortured and hands held up placating, “I couldn't just let you sit there wailing.”

 

“I wasn't wailing,” Stiles argued weakly, “I was...”

 

“Calling for your mate,” Derek nodded, “Keening, I think it's called. You really think we aren't...?”

 

“Heard that, did you,” Stiles sighed, hugging the fabric around himself tightly, “There were two other scents on the packet.”

 

“Erica's made me puke,” Derek told him.

 

“Hey!” Stiles' eyes shot up, “She's a lovely... okay, she's a bitch, but she's my friend who is a bitch!”

 

“She still made me puke,” Derek shrugged.

 

“And... And Isaac?”

 

Derek shrugged slightly, “I wasn't sure at the time.”

 

“So...” Stiles felt himself deflate, “So it's him. You took home the wrong omega.”

 

“No.”

 

“But-”

 

“ _No,”_ Derek insisted.

 

“But you won't even talk to me,” Stiles whined, and this time he heard the keen in his voice that Derek said was a call for his mate. It sounded annoying. Great. As if Stiles wasn't already unintentionally obnoxious! Now he'd gone all nasally!

 

Derek pulled out a chair and sat beside him, sighing as he ran a finger through some sugar that had spilled on the table.

 

“I don't... do that well. I don't know what to say.”

 

“Take off your pants?” Stiles suggested, meaning for Derek to tell him since he'd been taught time and again that he was at an alpha's whim.

 

Derek clearly misunderstood him because he got to his feet and started to undo his pants. Stiles wasn't about to stop him. He just stared with his mouth open as Derek dropped trou in the middle of the fucking kitchen.

 

“Now what?” Derek shrugged one shoulder, “Or was getting me in more trouble with your dad-”

 

Derek stopped, eyes widening as he sniffed the air. Stiles could feel himself soaking the robe he was sitting on as lust made his body produce heady scented slick to ease the way for an activity that Stiles had yet to _fully have_. He wanted Derek, that much was obvious, and judging by the growing erection the alpha wasn't unaffected. The problem was that the second Stiles got his hands on him he started to pull back.

 

“Stiles. Stiles. _Stop_.”

 

“Fucking why?!” Stiles wailed miserably, releasing his shirt.

 

“Because you're shaking and near tears!”

 

“I'm aching to be filled, Derek!” Stiles shouted at him angrily, “Literally aching! I'm crying because I _hurt_.”

 

Derek's eyebrows drew down and he stepped forward, “You smell like fear, Stiles.”

 

“I'm still basically a virgin, Derek,” Stiles sobbed, “I'm bound to be scared.”

 

Derek pulled back again and Stiles groaned miserably, “Then you'll be less afraid when your heat hits. It removes the fear.”

 

“And all rational thought! I don't want my first time to be at the whims of my body! I want to _be_ with you. I might not even remember it and we'll be back at square one!”

 

“I can't, Stiles,” Derek pulled his stupid fucking pants back up again, “It puts me off when you smell like fear. I've tried warming you up to it by holding you at night, but you never get used to me!”

 

“I haven't had a chance to!”

 

“It's been three months, Stiles,” Derek turned to stomp away from him, “You're not going to!”

 

Stiles listened to him stomp off with his chest aching miserably. He couldn't say they were in love because he barely knew his husband, but he still wanted him. He loved when Derek held him and he grasped at the man's arms in return, arching against Derek as they lay together. And then... nothing. Nothing but sleep or a quiet moment lying still while both of them longed for the other and neither of them did anything about it.

 

Well, Stiles was going to do something about it, but without his husband's consent there wasn't anything he could do _with_ him so he took himself back to the car and that _good texture_. Stiles spread himself out on the hood of the car and rubbed his cheek against it, reaching below to grasp his cock and lazily fuck into his hand. The garage was still cold, but there was little that could hold his pre-heat body back now that he'd been fired up. Stiles had three fingers in his needy hole when he choked out his release all over the hood of Derek's client's car.

 

Shame was his first reaction, and sorrow after it. He wasn't meant to be alone anymore. He'd been _claimed_. Taken home to live with his mate. Well, he'd taken his mate home to live with him, but either way. The problem was that while Stiles was assertive everywhere else he had no idea how to be assertive in this one way. He needed Derek to _take him,_ but Derek wouldn't do that as long as Stiles smelled like fear.

 

Stiles left his mess on the car hood because he was angry and petty and took himself upstairs to cry in the shower. He crawled into bed beside Derek, who was snoring away without a care in the world as if he wasn't leaving his mate unsatisfied and miserable on the regular. There was lube on the bedside table that he'd left open so apparently his needs were met. Good for him.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles was miserable and cranky, sore from his impending heat and the athletics he'd performed on top of a cold car hood the night before. Derek had made him breakfast in bed, caressed his cheek while staring at him as if he were his soul obsession, and left without a word. Stiles had swooned at his loving gaze and then drooped when he left. He skipped school to stay home and soak in the tub for hours on end, letting his teachers know that he was going on heat early. They sent him a backlog of work to go through before and after his time fully hit since walking around would draw unwanted attention for the next week. Being claimed wouldn't stop people from trying to get him to break it when they caught the scent of him in need. Which he would be. Since Derek wouldn't fucking touch him. The temptation to go out there and get some attention from _someone else_ was a bit... alarming to Stiles. He'd never thought claimed omegas went for that, but supposedly they did or alphas wouldn't try to lure them away from their mates. Maybe Stiles should. Maybe he should go find an alpha to meet his needs. Maybe Derek would get jealous and fuck him sideways afterwards.  
  
Or leave him at last, ending their damn relationship limbo.

 

Stiles didn't leave the tub until his father woke up and told him he needed a shower. He drained the tub for the fourteenth time and dragged his exhausted self back to his bedroom. The shower started up as Stiles walked in and blinked in confusion. Something was off. His head was a bit fuzzy from his impending heat so he stared around himself for several minutes before it began to sink in. Derek's model cars, books, and upon further inspection his _clothes_ were all gone!

 

Panicked, Stiles fled down the house to the garage, hoping against hope, but when he opened the doors the fancy car was gone and so were Derek's tools.

 

“No, no, no, no, no,” Stiles whispered, “No, this can't be happening.”

 

Stiles snatched his keys from the hook at the front door and ran to his jeep, starting it up and slamming the car into reverse. He couldn't go through another heat alone. He had been going crazy in Eichen without even an omega to touch him. He had to fix things with Derek. If the guy wanted only heat sex he'd manage it, but he couldn't just _lose him_ now.

 

In the dark recesses of Stiles' mind he pictured himself being turned away by Derek and wandering around town until someone just fucked him on the ground like the ruined omega he was.

 

Stiles drove far too fast all the way to the Hale house, determined to ignore any cops who tried to pull him over. Luckily none did, because he'd neglected one rather important detail before he'd left the house and hadn't even registered until he was fumbling the key in Talia Hale's front door. Laura opened it before he could figure out how to do it with shaking hands and gaped at him.

 

“DEREK! IT'S FOR YOU!” Laura shouted.

 

“Oh my goodness!” Talia had appeared behind her daughter, and she gestured Stiles into the house but both of them stepped back quickly and kept their distance, “Derek! Bring a robe!”

 

Stiles blinked down at his torso and realized he was standing in their entryway in a damp towel. He'd _driven there_ next to naked. Derek made that realization at the same time that he did from the alcove above the entryway. He vaulted the stairway and landed in the entryway, eyes blazing red as he stalked towards Stiles.

 

“Derek, why would you leave him alone like this?” Talia asked, real fear in her voice, “He's hours from heat! Anything could have happened! _He could have been raped!_ ”

 

Derek pulled his shirt off and stuffed it over Stiles' head, knocking the towel to the ground in the process. It hung just below his balls, but he felt even more naked without the thicker terrycloth. He could hear himself whining and keening in agony but had no way to stop it this time. He was shaking and as he put his hands over his face in shame the _crying_ started. Great. He looked like a ridiculous stereotype and felt like a fool.

 

Derek threw him over his shoulder and practically ran up the steps to his room, slamming the door as the scent of Derek overwhelmed Stiles. His nose was extremely sensitive during his time of year, although not as intense as a werewolf's. Derek dropped Stiles down to his feet and pulled him tightly against his body while breathing in his scent.

 

“Goddess, Stiles,” Derek's voice was ragged, “I can't... You're so fucking...”

 

“Yeah, fucking,” Stiles whined, scratching at Derek's shoulders weakly, “Derek, _please!”_

 

Derek pushed Stiles down onto his bed and Stiles' legs didn't so much fall open as snap open hard enough to hurt his joints. Derek was over him in an instant, shoving his own pants down and the shirt he'd put on Stiles _up_. Derek gripped Stiles beneath the knees and lifted his legs to push them around his waist. Stiles caught on and hooked them at the ankles and began trying to pull Derek into his body. Since Derek wasn't actually _in him yet_ it was wildly unsuccessful but resulted in some delicious grinding that had them both panting.

 

“Oh gods!” Stiles whined, “Please! Please!”

 

“You aren't in heat yet, you'll be sore and-”

 

“I'LL BE SORE EITHER WAY FUCKING FUCK ME ALREADY!” Stiles shrieked.

 

Derek shifted up on his knees a bit and reached between them to line his cock up with Stiles' soaking wet hole. Stiles felt that now acknowledged surge of panic, but the scent of his need must have been overpowering it because Derek didn't hesitate again. Stiles breathed out through his initial thrust in, but he needn't have. His lust was so strong that his body had tented for Derek, making his entrance a slick glide without resistance. Derek let out a broken sound and shifted to lay over Stiles' body completely. He reached down and gripped his plush bottom in both hands while mouthing at Stiles' neck. Stiles clutched at Derek's back and then slid his hands down to grab that rock solid ass as Derek began to fuck into him fast and hard.

 

Stiles' breath was driven from his lungs as he finally got the full feeling that he'd craved for so long. Derek's length speared into him, grazing his prostate and rocking his body on the bed. Stiles gasped in as stars flickered behind his eyelids and that was all it took for his barely experienced body to be overwhelmed. Stiles spilled between them, sobbing in relief as his pleasure blanked out his mind and left him without the fear or hesitance that had overwhelmed him in the past. It showed in Derek's reaction. He pushed up on his arms and drove into Stiles with determined force, letting out a roar of relief as his knot tied them together.

 

The sudden extra girth pushed against Stiles' sensitive gland and the young man groaned out another climax, saturating Derek's abdomen and chest. Derek was chanting Stiles' name, mouthing along his neck and biting his shoulder, and coming so hard that Stiles could feel his length pulsing inside his body. Stiles had a fleeting moment of regret for using birth control and then dismissed it. They were young. They'd have cubs someday, but now belonged to _them._ They had all the time in the world to learn about each other and _finally_ bond fully.

 

Derek moaned softly, grinding into Stiles' body and bringing himself off again. Stiles shifted his arms about now that his desires were sated, wanting more than anything to just _hold_ his mate. He wrapped one arm around Derek's torso and buried his fingers in his hair. Derek arched and moaned, lifting his head in response to Stiles running blunt nails along his scalp. His mouth was open in bliss, his eyes relaxed as his pleasure saturated his mind. Derek was gorgeous when suffused in pleasure and Stiles stroked his strong, scratchy jowl and loved him.

 

As Derek relaxed across Stiles' body, heavy in his exhaustion, Stiles felt the release of tension as a new clarity. Derek hadn't been rejecting him. The stench of fear really had kept him away. He hadn't wanted to force Stiles, so even if his words were yes, his scent language had been _no_. They'd known each other for a whopping three months and Derek didn't use words to share often. He used body language and probably scents that Stiles didn't pick up on. He'd have to teach his mate to communicate better. Stiles was eager to stop worrying and start falling in love.

 

Just as soon as he could move again.

 


End file.
